


Missed Calls

by cosmisce



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmisce/pseuds/cosmisce
Summary: Years after Luffy becomes the Pirate King, Sanji leaves to start a restaurant in the All Blue.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Vinsmoke Sanji
Kudos: 47





	Missed Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there! I wrote this a year ago. Thought I should publish it, as it wasn't doing anyone any good just rotting in my Google Drive. It's a little rusty and self-indulgent, but--hope you enjoy it.

Sometimes Sanji can still hear his captain on Sunny’s head, laughter peeling out of him—

Five years after, Sanji developed Blue Dreams. It was an inconspicuous restaurant situated near the shore of his favorite island on the Grand Line, a small summer island which reminded him of home. He had chosen all of it, erected it from debris; he had left himself in high ceilings and luminous gardenias, comfortable wooden furniture and tiles he had ruminated upon. None of it, though, compared to his kitchen — 

It engulfed half of his restaurant, aromas of spices, fish, and desserts merging to render him light-headed. It had a large stove and refrigerator, and a large marble counter space for him to work. The pantries had been divided into spaces for meat, fruits, and breads, much larger than it had been on the Sunny. Sometimes, while cooking, he would play some music or listen to his captain’s voice echo from the phone:

_Hey, Sanji! It’s me again. I know we talked five minutes ago, but—_

Sometimes, Sanji would turn it off because it made his throat tighten. He would touch his eyes, and feel them glistening under tears.

Hey, Sanji. Guess what happened today? Me and Chopper visited a cold part of the New World—you would’ve hated it—and he almost got eaten by these super huge polar bears! It was hilarious. But we had to go back to the Sunny pretty fast, because Chopper was almost crying and it’s so strange because he hasn’t cried in a long time now, you know — 

_Hey, Sanji. Question, how much sugar should you put in cake? We’re trying to surprise Nami, but we didn’t know how much to put in, so we just added two bags of it — you think that’s good? Please call me back. Even though the cake is baking right now._

_I just want to hear your voice again._

After, Sanji had stopped listening to voicemails in the kitchen. His staff had increased in recent months, and, though he had told them many stories about his captain, some stuff felt too private to share. It was almost too private to voice to himself at night, undressing in his apartment after a endless, almost dreamy day at the restaurant. While Sanji usually tried to pick up when Luffy called, his busy shifts made it impossible for him to keep up. Voicemails piled up on his phone, remnants of a person whom he could feel slipping out of his grasp, stilling into memory. 

Talking made him here. Luffy’s voice against his air, as buoyant as Sanji remembered, made him feel close. Static became almost beautiful; it was a reminder of life beyond Sanji’s vision. He could be carried by those stilted dialogues, those playful teases so casual it ached. Often times, Luffy would babble about his day, or what adventures had transpired since they last spoke. It would never be more than two days; except for one time, in which Luffy and the rest had run out food on a particularly arduous voyage and Sanji had been miles apart from them, unaware of it, unable to forgive himself once Nami, in a low voice, had told him. 

_Hey, Sanji. I just..._

_I’m not doing so great. I remember those first few weeks after we met up in Sabaody and you noticed I was getting nightmares. You even noticed when I was sad, and you made me ice cream and takoyaki even though you knew it wouldn’t help much. I never told you how much you did help, those times when I dreamed about Ace and you would climb into my bunk and hold me until morning, when my sleep became more peaceful and you had to prepare breakfast—_

_Some of those times, I was actually awake. And I’m sorry for not telling you until now._

_What I’m trying to say is—I would give anything to see you right now. Sometimes I feel as if you’re the only person I can talk to about this stuff, and—_

_Nevermind. Please call me._

Sanji had been closing up shop when Luffy had phoned, and immediately returned his call. The chef had talked to him all night, about memories from their voyages to deeper, more serious topics which touched on their private insecurities. In a hushed voice, Luffy had said:

_I wish you hadn’t left._

_I wish you were here._

And then, Luffy had started crying — a soft, tender sound which filled Sanji’s bedroom. The chef hadn’t responded, only listened. It was all he could do.

Sanji had stayed aboard the Sunny for three years after Luffy became the Pirate King, cooked him his meals and joined him on adventures. Those days did not decline in their splendor, and the chef could confidently say each moment has been fun and new. But he had been so tired, and he wasn’t afraid, as he had been before, to make a new start. 

Luffy hadn’t complained, only looked at him pensively for a few seconds before a wide, masking grin spread on his face. It was what Sanji loved about him. But not today, when Sanji knew sadness lay behind those barred teeth. Afterward, they had lain on the deck of the Sunny, Sanji’s hair getting tangled in grass. He could remember it now just as clearly as if it was yesterday, would never forget the stickiness of Luffy’s palm in his hands, a little too hot for comfort if it was anyone else. But Luffy was different, had always been. Sanji realized it now, as he held his captain for what he felt would be the last time.

Luffy reached over and kissed him.

Sanji reached for the memory in the crevices of his mind. It had become washed by time, an image so faded he could barely discern what had happened. But the feelings had stayed, electrifying, grinning at him through a conspiratorial smile. 

Luffy cupped his face and whispered something Sanji had never heard before.

No— 

Luffy had bludgeoned him, started lashing him across his face, and Sanji was a little boy again, trapped behind bars. Still, no— 

This is true. Luffy had stayed silent for a few moments, and then he took a step forward, moving from darkness into sunlight, and suddenly his face was shining under a final truth. He pulled Sanji to lie down in the grass and they had talked about what they should eat for dinner. Sanji felt his throat constrict, and he can’t remember what he had said then, what last meal he had cooked, or what Luffy had said to him before Sanji had turned and never looked back, but he can pretend as if he did. He feels ashamed about forgetting. 

_Hi, Sanji! Guess who’s visiting?_

The restaurant is particularly full when his captain strolls in, looking as surreal as when Sanji had first met him, his smile so bright Sanji could die in it, find truth in its light. Sanji had caught on ten minutes ago—the echo of his flip flops, the hymn of his breaths— 

“I’m home,” Luffy declares. Here it comes again—here is what really happened — 

The night before Sanji left, he had remained awake to Luffy’s muffled sobs. But he hadn’t stayed. Sunny was a ghost ship, people becoming planets drifting from its common center, spinning into space.

Now, he knows—Luffy’s what they all return to. Luffy's what they all come from. This inertia hurtles him faster into his arms, and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he reaches them, here’s what really, really happened— 

“I’m ready to go,” Sanji said. It had been dark, Sanji had made sure of it, so he couldn’t see Luffy’s face. He had left immediately after, not waiting for a reaction. He had picked up his bags and disappeared and become a stranger. 

And even then, what’s real is crumbling in his fingers. Sanji strains to look at Luffy, but sunlight hits his captain so hard it almost kills him. 

“Captain, you’re back,” Sanji says. 

Silence. Wind touches Sanji’s face, or maybe it’s a person, or maybe it’s not wind at all, but so many ghosts floating past him. 

And even this isn’t true.


End file.
